EDITOR'S NOTE: Girl on the Moon is a fictional holiday series about an extraordinary woman and five people whose lives she touched and changed, set in Shreveport and Bossier City. This is the fifth installment in the six-part series.

Dec. 31, 2016

Natasha Radner approached the stairs leading up to the bridge deck. Only then did she see the messenger leaning against a wall. He clutched the black satchel he’d carried the day before on the downtown rooftop when he had delivered the invitation with embossed lettering, signed only by “E.S.” A large black sack lay at his feet.

“Hey!” she yelled. “So are you going to tell me what this is all about now, Santa Claus?”

The messenger’s eyes were red and his face tired, as if he hadn’t slept since she’d seen him just more than a day ago. He offered a weary smile.

“You’re late,” he said. “Everyone’s waiting.”

He led her up the stairs and onto the walkway on the eastbound side of the Texas Street Bridge to join the other members of the somber invitees.

***

CLOSE

Girl on the Moon is a six-part fiction series by reporter Tiana Kennell. The series is about how one community member can affect the lives of many.
(Henrietta Wildsmith/The Times)

September 2016

The moon was full — bright enough to light 16-year-old Natasha’s path without a flashlight. Having a free hand made it easier for her to handle the tools to pop the lock of the Highland neighborhood house. She entered through the back door, making barely a sound, and silently pushed the door closed behind her. The house was empty, she knew. A “For Rent” sign was posted in the yard. A perfect place for her to hide and sleep.

She made her way to the master bedroom. There, she dropped her backpack to the floor and lay with her head against it. Moonlight cast a beam through a window, enhanced by a light from the house next door. Natasha crawled to the window and peeked out. Curtains in the other house were open, permitting her to see the top of a woman’s head bent over the hem of a long bridal gown.

Natasha watched for a few minutes, imagining what it would be like to walk down the aisle in such a dress. Fairytale dreaming. She rolled her eyes and tore herself away to crawl back to her bag. Using a small flashlight, she dug out a granola bar from a side pocket. She took a swig of water from her plastic thermos. Dinner is served, she thought.

She’d learned to lock-pick from her uncle when she was 12 but hadn’t had a real reason to use the skill until now. Her father wouldn’t condone it, but he was no longer here to tell her what to do. Neither was her mother, though for other reasons.

Natasha hadn’t seen her mother in almost four years. Not since she’d left with her new boyfriend, abandoning Natasha and her father.

In time, Natasha had begun to look more like her mother, which drove her father crazy. They argued often, and she knew it was because she was cursed to look like the woman who’d broken his heart.

She thought about moving in with her uncle and his family, but he laughed when she suggested it. He lived in a mobile home two miles from her father — and had three children already. He didn’t need more mouths to feed. Sorry, kid.

Photo illustration for Girl on the Moon series. Girl on the Moon is a six-part fiction series by reporter Tiana Kennell running in The Times Dec. 25 to Dec. 31. The series is about how one community member can affect the lives of many.(Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

So she planned an escape for late spring. She left the house she shared with her dad in south Bossier. One morning, instead of going to school, she allowed herself to get lost in the Port Cities. Her father wouldn’t notice she was gone for at least eight hours and perhaps longer.

She didn’t have a solid plan, but the idea was to make her own life the way she wanted. Somehow. She couldn’t go back to school without administrators taking her home. But she’d be 18 soon enough, and then she’d go for her GED and get a job and one day go on tour and dance backup for Beyonce or Katy Perry. She’d live in a cute apartment when she wasn’t on the road. She’d meet a hot guy. He’d be nice and kind and have a good job and support her dreams. He’d propose one night in the Norton Gardens while the azaleas were in bloom. For their wedding, she’d wear that beautiful bridal dress and veiled fascinator the lady next door was making.

More fairytale dreams, she thought.

She’d been on her own for more than four months, three of them on the streets. At first, she crashed on friends’ couches, until their parents got suspicious. Then she began breaking into vacant houses, figuring they were safer than benches outdoors. After a few close calls with being caught, she learned how to slip in and out of place without a trace.

Natasha sighed. An upbeat dance beat started playing in her earbuds, and she got to her feet for a solo dance party. One thing she loved about empty houses was how much space they offered. She spun and twisted and whipped her hair around the dark room, gyrating to the music. Dancing was the only time she felt really free.

Girl on the Moon is a 2016 fictional holiday series by Tiana Kennell.(Photo: Megan Steenson, USA Today Network)

***

Natasha returned to the house for days and stole looks out the window and into the dressmaker’s house, watching her work. Then one night she saw that the room next door was dark. The dressmaker wasn’t home.

Without thinking, Natasha pulled out her pocket knife and flashlight. She crept across the backyard and over the fence to the dressmaker’s backdoor. Once inside, she followed hallways to the room she’d seen from the window. She dared to turn on the overhead light. There it was.

The dress.

She sat on the floor in front of the dress, groping in a coat pocket for the bottle of whiskey she’d snatched off a drunk on the street. She took a couple of deep drinks. Lost in daydreams about dancing in that dress, she didn’t hear the front door open. The footsteps in the hall registered a little too late. Natasha jumped to her feet, whiskey bottle in hand.

Natasha nodded, cautiously, and followed the dressmaker into the kitchen. The woman flipped on a radio atop the counter. She began humming and swaying to the music.

Natasha looked around. The kitchen was cozy and warm. Neither small nor large, roomy enough for a small round table off to the side by the window. Tidy, but lived in, with the aroma of spices from past meals.

“I have leftovers from last night,” the woman said. “Pork chops, potatoes and green beans. I hate warming things in the microwave, but I’m afraid if I try to heat things by the stove, you’ll run off before it’s done. You’re like a baby deer in that way. Not an insult! I just know your kind. I was your kind.”

Such a chatty woman, Natasha thought, as she watched her buzz around the kitchen while continuing to talk.

“My parents couldn’t tell me anything when I was your age. I couldn’t wait to move away, even if it was just a little up I-49 to Shreveport from Alexandria. And I refused to move back, even when I got pregnant. I had something to prove.”

Natasha looked to her right, to photos on the refrigerator of the woman and people who might have been family. Several were of her and a boy, at different ages. She looked so young in the photos, too young to have a son who, in later photos, appeared to be around her age.

“So you like to dance, do you?” the women said. “I saw you through the window. You were watching me too, so it’s only fair. You almost gave me a heart attack when I saw your shadow. Then I saw you dancing, and I knew you weren’t some burglar or killer. Well, you could be, but I doubt it.”

The dressmaker now stood face to face with Natasha, smiling. She held a plate of hot food and a glass of sweet tea. Freckles dotted the woman’s cheeks, accented by barely visible laugh lines. She was shorter and curvier than Natasha, who remained thin from having barely crossed into womanhood and from a lack of food recently.

Natasha took the plate and sat at the kitchen table. The woman joined her with her own glass of sweet tea.

“You can stay here,” the dressmaker said. “If you need a place.”

Natasha choked on a bite of pork chop.

“You almost gave me a heart attack when I saw your shadow. Then I saw you dancing, and I knew you weren’t some burglar or killer.”

Elena Sanchez

“I don’t mean to be forward, but it’s better than you squatting in empty houses. How old are you? About 16, 17? You look around my son’s age. He’s a bit troubled too, but for other reasons. He’s had to grow up real quick lately.”

Natasha sipped her tea. Finally, she spoke. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not? I’m afraid if I don’t officially invite you in, you’ll just break in and make yourself at home anyway,” the woman said, laughing.

“I’m sorry about that. I’ll leave—”

“No, little dear. You stay. I’m joking. I know all too well what it’s like being young and alone and not knowing where to turn. I was the same but in different circumstances. And I had my boy to look after, on top of trying to figure out my own life. But it turned out pretty well, I’d say. Considering.”

Does she ever stop talking? Natasha thought, feeling instantly guilty because of her kindness.

“Look,” the woman said, “I won’t ask you any more personal questions. . . . Actually, I have one more. You saw my dresses and hats. I also paint. I rent a studio not far from here. I’m selling my paintings at Red River Revel in a week, and I could use help setting up. I’ve been feeling a bit off balance lately, and there’s a lot of physical labor in hauling everything out. It’ll be fun for you, and I’d pay you.”

Natasha needed the money. And she hadn’t been to The Revel since she was a kid. She didn’t know what it was about this woman, but she felt safe. And she trusted her.

“Ok. Yeah. I’ll help.”

***

Natasha worked all week at The Revel with Elena. The work helped her start to feel herself again. Elena didn’t ask many questions, so she was able to relax — something she hadn’t done in a long time.

On breaks, she walked around Festival Plaza watching families and couples and groups of friends laughing, playing games, riding rides and eating. She felt a twinge of envy. Still, things didn’t feel so lonely when she was with Elena. The woman was old enough to be her mother, but she was beginning to feel like something more. A friend.

One evening, while on dinner break, Natasha bought a gator on a stick and a Coke and sat at a table in front of the main stage, just in time to see a group of young ballet dancers take a step onto the stage. The girls were a mix of heights, weights and colors, but together in their matching leotards and tights they looked uniform and moved crisply in unison. Their elegance and grace commanded attention.

They performed several pieces, both contemporary and ballet. Natasha could see a short woman with a stern face and straight posture. Their instructor, Natasha thought. The woman gave a barely visible nod of approval when her troupe completed a particularly difficult move. At times, she moved her hands slightly with the music, as if the girls were marionette dolls and she was guiding them through every turn and leap.

The troupe’s last dance was an excerpt from “The Nutcracker.” A ballerina in pointe shoes and classic tutu took center stage, elevated and stretched her body and extended her limbs. She made it look easy, but Natasha could see her muscles in full control.

She imagined herself on that stage, feeling envious. It would never happen, she thought. Just another fantasy.

Photo illustration for Girl on the Moon series. Girl on the Moon is a six-part fiction series by reporter Tiana Kennell running in The Times Dec. 25 to Dec. 31. The series is about how one community member can affect the lives of many.
Cyanotype is a photographic printing process that creates a cyan-blue print. In the 20th century engineers used the process as a simple and low-cost process to produce copies of drawings commonly called blueprints. From the start artist have been using this process to create interesting photographic images. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

From Girl on the Moon -
Richard Montgomery begrudgingly entered the Meadows Museum in Shreveport. It wasnÕt his scene, but it could be a profitable visit if played the conversation well.
Cyanotype is a photographic printing process that creates a cyan-blue print. In the 20th century engineers used the process as a simple and low-cost process to produce copies of drawings commonly called blueprints. From the start artist have been using this process to create interesting photographic images. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

From Girl on the Moon -
Richard and Elena stayed sheltered in her bedroom inside the Highland neighborhood house she shared with three roommates. They ordered carryout from StrawnÕs Eat Shop on Kings Highway and ate picnic-style on the floor.
Cyanotype is a photographic printing process that creates a cyan-blue print. In the 20th century engineers used the process as a simple and low-cost process to produce copies of drawings commonly called blueprints. From the start artist have been using this process to create interesting photographic images. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

Photo illustration for Girl on the Moon series. Girl on the Moon is a six-part fiction series by reporter Tiana Kennell running in The Times Dec. 25 to Dec. 31. The series is about how one community member can affect the lives of many.
Cyanotype is a photographic printing process that creates a cyan-blue print. In the 20th century engineers used the process as a simple and low-cost process to produce copies of drawings commonly called blueprints. From the start artist have been using this process to create interesting photographic images. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

Photo illustration for Girl on the Moon series. Girl on the Moon is a six-part fiction series by reporter Tiana Kennell running in The Times Dec. 25 to Dec. 31. The series is about how one community member can affect the lives of many.
Cyanotype is a photographic printing process that creates a cyan-blue print. In the 20th century engineers used the process as a simple and low-cost process to produce copies of drawings commonly called blueprints. From the start artist have been using this process to create interesting photographic images. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

Photo illustration for Girl on the Moon series. Girl on the Moon is a six-part fiction series by reporter Tiana Kennell running in The Times Dec. 25 to Dec. 31. The series is about how one community member can affect the lives of many.
Cyanotype is a photographic printing process that creates a cyan-blue print. In the 20th century engineers used the process as a simple and low-cost process to produce copies of drawings commonly called blueprints. From the start artist have been using this process to create interesting photographic images. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

Photo illustration for Girl on the Moon series. Girl on the Moon is a six-part fiction series by reporter Tiana Kennell running in The Times Dec. 25 to Dec. 31. The series is about how one community member can affect the lives of many.
Cyanotype is a photographic printing process that creates a cyan-blue print. In the 20th century engineers used the process as a simple and low-cost process to produce copies of drawings commonly called blueprints. From the start artist have been using this process to create interesting photographic images. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

Cyanotype is a photographic printing process that creates a cyan-blue print. In the 20th century engineers used the process as a simple and low-cost process to produce copies of drawings commonly called blueprints. From the start artist have been using this process to create interesting photographic images. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

Cyanotype is a photographic printing process that creates a cyan-blue print. In the 20th century engineers used the process as a simple and low-cost process to produce copies of drawings commonly called blueprints. From the start artist have been using this process to create interesting photographic images. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

Cyanotype is a photographic printing process that creates a cyan-blue print. In the 20th century engineers used the process as a simple and low-cost process to produce copies of drawings commonly called blueprints. From the start artist have been using this process to create interesting photographic images. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

From Girl on the Moon
ÒA meeting under the moon. 11:30 p.m. December 31. Texas Street Bridge (eastbound)Ó The invitation was clear but its meaning still perplexed the six individuals who would end up at the rendez-vous.ne community member can affect the lives of many. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

From Girl on the Moon -
Justin looked into the dark sky over the Red River. Fireworks began to shoot off, casting colorful flashes of light over each of their tear-stained faces. Elena had gone out with the bang sheÕd intended. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

Photo illustration for Girl on the Moon series. Girl on the Moon is a six-part fiction series by reporter Tiana Kennell running in The Times Dec. 25 to Dec. 31. The series is about how one community member can affect the lives of many. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

Photo illustration for Girl on the Moon series. Girl on the Moon is a six-part fiction series by reporter Tiana Kennell running in The Times Dec. 25 to Dec. 31. The series is about how one community member can affect the lives of many. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

Photo illustration for Girl on the Moon series. Girl on the Moon is a six-part fiction series by reporter Tiana Kennell running in The Times Dec. 25 to Dec. 31. The series is about how one community member can affect the lives of many. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

Photo illustration for Girl on the Moon series. Girl on the Moon is a six-part fiction series by reporter Tiana Kennell running in The Times Dec. 25 to Dec. 31. The series is about how one community member can affect the lives of many. (Photo: Henrietta Wildmith/The Times)

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After The Revel, Natasha saw Elena during the occasional stops by the dressmaker’s house. A family moved into the house next to Elena’s, so she couldn’t stay there. She didn’t feel right staying overnight at Elena’s, although sometimes she’d visit.

Her visits were never long and never planned. Just long enough to get a bite to eat or nap on the sofa or to help Elena organize her sewing room. When it felt like the questions were about to begin ‒ uncomfortable questions about what Natasha planned to do with her life ‒ she made excuses to leave.

She gave Elena some comfort, letting her know where she was going and promising to ask for help if she ever was in any danger.

But Natasha still felt Elena’s pull. On Halloween, Natasha began walking down Elena’s street, surprised by how excited she was at the thought of seeing her. Plus, Elena had said she’d let Natasha wear one of her dresses.

A block from the house, Natasha saw flashing lights in front of the house . . . an ambulance! Startled, Natasha stopped, watching from the shadow of a tree. Paramedics lifted a gurney down the front steps and wheeled it along the walk, working frantically on someone. Elena.

A young man followed the paramedics down the porch and into the back of the emergency vehicle.

To Natasha, it all felt like a dance. The paramedics’ hands moved quickly and lyrically, checking pulses, adjusting oxygen masks. Their steps were sure and swift, almost flowing, as they made their way down the pathway. The younger male who followed had a different dance ‒ pained steps with sharp movements, broken and choppy.

And from her place behind the tree, Natasha felt herself slip into a spiraling dance ‒ spinning, spinning, spinning.